


Surviving Isn't the Same as Living

by randompersonH2O



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:13:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9004591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randompersonH2O/pseuds/randompersonH2O
Summary: When the apocalypse came knocking on Emilia's door, she was completely unprepared. As an aspiring author, she had been more concerned about the possibility of getting her very first novel out and published than the idea that people could come back from the dead and try to eat her. She was lucky she even saw the news reports. Nonetheless, she survived, and went through a lot in the first few months of what could very well be considered the end of the world. She learned not to trust anyone. At least, not until she met one very special group....





	1. Chapter 1

Emilia sighed, twisting the cap back onto the bottle of water she held as she trudged down the road. The scorching sun of a Georgia spring had been beating down on her for days now, and she couldn't wait to find somewhere to lay low for a couple days. Her once pale face was now stained red with awful sunburns, as were her arms and legs. However, she couldn't stop just because she was tired or in pain. She wasn't alone in this world, even if she thought she was.

Those things followed her everywhere.

The flesh eating monsters that had caused this whole mess were never far away. Though they used to be human, they never looked it. They always had something missing that made them look more like a monster than a person, whether it be an eye, a leg, or a patch of flesh. The most common thing they lacked, however, was lifelike eyes. They all had milky, unfocused eyes that looked like they barely saw a thing. If anything, the creatures relied on their hearing.

Emilia had learned quickly that the colt pistol her father had given her upon her departure was to be used solely for emergencies. She had attracted far too many walkers with it before, and that was a mistake that could have gotten people killed. Those mistakes made it a blessing that she wasn't traveling with anyone. At least, she wasn't anymore. She'd had her father and brother at first, but they were both ignorant. It cost them their lives, and did nothing for her but cause her grief in remembering the look of their eyes as they had woken in death.

She had tried her best to forget them, and those in her family who she hadn't learned the fate of. However, their faces weren't easy to forget. Emilia's childhood memories were haunted by them. Her smiling grandparents, whom she was certain were dead by now. Her mother, who might have had a slim chance of surviving if she had her new spouse with her. Her friends, and others who she barely knew but had somehow crept into her memories. She wished the best for them all, but she would rather forget them. All that remembering did was cause her pain, and that was something she didn't need. Not when she needed to be fighting for her life. Whether it be walkers or people, she needed to be ready to fight, and survive.

Emilia didn't trust people, for she'd witnessed plenty of awful things on the road. Betrayal, murder, rape... She'd seen it all, though more by accident than anything else. She'd hoped to join multiple groups until she'd witnessed them do one of these things or another, but all her hopes for companionship had flown out the window at the sight of the foolishness of her kind. They were all idiots, for they let greed and desire get in the way of their common sense, which was the most essential tool for survival. She was better off without a companion, anyways. She wasn't responsible for anyone, and she couldn't blame herself for any more deaths.

A low growl interrupted her grave thoughts, pulling her attention to the thick brush on the right side of the road. Three walkers stumbled out from the bushes, the smell and sound of a potential meal irresistible to them. Emilia sighed, for she had no problem taking them out. They were a nuisance, but it was no different than swatting at Mosquitoes for her now.

She pulled her grandfather's old army knife from her belt, a fresh pain bursting through her hands as her sunburned fingers gripped the wooden handle. Emilia had become accustomed to minor pains throughout her travels, but she had convinced herself that she couldn't let them hinder her. She didn't want to look weak, despite the fact that there was no one to look weak around.

The woman met the walkers head on, shoving the long blade between the eyes of one that had once been a middle aged man. The growl that had been reverberating from his torn throat stopped abruptly as she twisted the blade, finally ending the life that it never should have been forced into. She pulled the knife out of its skull without hesitation, knowing that even a split second wasted would be one that could easily be used against her. The walkers were slow, but that wasn't what she was worried about.

Emilia had taken to comparing the moaning creatures to the hydras of Greek myths. It was said that if you cut off the head of one, two grew back. It seemed that for every walker she killed, there were two already coming to take its place.

She looked up at the other walkers quickly, wasting no time in burying the knife in the skull of the second walker. She kicked the third back when she realized how close it was, hoping to buy a few precious seconds to retrieve her knife. She knew nothing stopped these creatures other than killing them, and it was either it or her. Emilia would rather it be the walker lying in a pool of blood.

Emilia pulled the knife out of the head of the walker she'd just killed, frowning when she realized that the thing she now had to kill had once been a child. She hated killing those simply for the fact that they always looked so innocent, even when they were trying to kill you. Nonetheless, she approached it with a calm demeanor, stabbing it before it could latch onto her baggy t-shirt. She sighed as she pushed the deceased creature off of her weapon, for she hated how numb to all of this she had become. It was almost as if killing the walkers was a habit to her now. She had turned from an innocent author that barely left her apartment for anything but more ink for her printer to a killing machine. To some, it could be considered an improvement. To her, it was a setback.

She'd loved the peace that writing had given her, for it had let her ignore the real world and all of the tragedies that came with it. She'd had tragedies, yes, but they were of her own mind's creation. Her imagination was controlled, but this real world was unpredictable. It had taken lives that she would have considered far too new to be cast out of the land of the living, and it had left her a shell of her former self. Emilia's imagination still existed as it had, but she had locked it away for the time being. She didn't need it in a world like this, but she hoped it would come in handy again at some point. It didn't seem like it would at the moment, but there was no telling when this apocalypse would end. They had to run out of walkers at some point, right?

Emilia's head shot up as the sound of a gunshot echoed from the woods in front of her, bringing her to glance around her frantically. She wasn't sure whether or not the shooter was close or not, but she was hoping that he or she wasn't trying to shoot her.

Unfortunately for her, that wasn't the case.

She was falling before she'd even realized that a second shot had been fired, but she could tell by the searing pain in her shoulder that the bullet had found its mark. Emilia definitely hadn't expected to be condemned by her fellow humans, but life was full of surprises. This just happened to be one of the less fortunate surprises.

She cried out in pain as she hit the concrete on her back, her eyes clenching shut as she tried to block out the pain that was coursing through her upper body. There was no one around to help her this time, and she knew now the one reason that a companion was necessary: safety. If something like this happened, you had someone to either save you or die with you. The outcome depended on the person, of course, but it still meant that you weren't alone. At the moment, however, Emilia was alone. She was also pretty sure that she was about to die. Her body was like a lead weight, and her bones ached from the impact of falling on the pavement. She had definitely hit her head, for she could already feel a massive headache coming on. These pains, however, were nothing compared to the storm brewing in her shoulder.

She turned her head to the right slowly, her blurry vision revealing that she wasn't quite as lucky as she'd thought she was. She hadn't been shot in the head, yes, but she was pretty sure that the bullet was still lodged in her shoulder. Despite that, blood was still pouring from the open wound like lava from an active volcano. It was awful, but it wasn't going to kill her. Not quickly, at least. 

Her eyelids fluttered as she laid there, trying her best to stay awake. She knew the walkers would be heading this way soon, and she wasn't going to let them take her. Then again, maybe it would be better that she went now. It had been years since this whole mess had started, and Emilia would know if the government had come anywhere near reestablishing itself. They would inform people if things were starting to get back to normal. However, from the looks of everything, there was no chance that things would ever be the same. There would never be a chance for her to sit at a desk and type up another chapter of a book, or to talk her excessively critical mother about her work. For some reason, she had thought it would be a good idea to take all of her works in progress with her in the beginning. They took up necessary space in her bags, but she thought that they would be a good thing to have if she ever got the chance to sit down and write for a while. However, that had been when she'd thought that there could really be a safe haven in Atlanta. When she'd thought there was still hope for the world to return to the way it was.

She knew now that there was no hope. Everything had been lost in the first year of the whole ordeal, including the government and military. Everyone was making do with what they could now, and it was keeping them alive. It was giving them a chance to survive, but surviving wasn't the same as living.

Maybe it was time for her to let death come and carry her away after all. She had no real purpose here, walking on alone every day. No one would miss her, for everyone she'd ever loved had already met the fate she was facing this very moment. She wouldn't mind being reunited with her family, even if they weren't her favorite people in the world.

Emilia took one last deep breath as she let her fatigue claim her, shutting her eyes for what she expected to be her last time. If the blood loss didn't take her, the walkers surely would. She just hoped she was able to sleep through it if she was condemned to being eaten alive.


	2. Chapter 2

Michonne let out a quiet sigh as she continued down the abandoned road, the clicking of her horse's hooves against the pavement drowning out the thoughts that had been swimming through her head. She had lost him. Again. She had been sure that she knew where he was, but there had been no sign of him where she'd managed to check. Rick had constantly told her that she needed to stop looking for him. He thought that the Governor was gone for good, but she wasn't convinced. She had found the old camp, and there had been two walkers to take down. One was black, and one was brown. Neither had an eye patch, which had to mean that he was out there somewhere, and if he was out there, she would find him. One way or another, she would find him.

Ever since her fight with the psychotic man in Woodbury, in which she had stabbed his eye, Michonne had sworn that she would be the one to end him. He had done some awful things to her, but that wasn't the reason that she wanted the Governor dead. It wasn't because the governor had stolen her first friend in this new world, or because he had tried to drive her and the group from what they now considered their home. No, she had a completely different reason. She wanted him dead because she knew it needed to be done. He needed to die, and he would. She just needed to make sure he died before he could repeat history.

She wasn't certain how long it would take to find her enemy again, but in the meantime she could turn the search into a supply hunt through buildings she had already checked for signs of the Governor. Carl always loved it when she came back to the prison with things for him. This time, Michonne had found him a few old comic books and a packet of m&ms. They were most likely stale, but the freshness of the food they found wasn't nearly as important now. If it had been sitting there for five years, most people would eat it if they were hungry enough. These days, you did what you could to survive, whether it be eating an expired can of food or killing your best friend.

She shook her head, turning her attention back to the road as she maneuvered her horse around a rusty old Honda in the middle of the street. Michonne never took the time to look in the cars, for every one that she had bothered to search had been stripped clean of anything useful. She would rather spend her time searching something that was more likely to wield necessities than go on a wild goose chase that rewarded her only with fatigue.

Michonne scanned the road as she turned, hoping to find out how close she was to the prison. However, a growing pool of crimson blood on the side of the road caught her attention. Four bodies lay on the side of the road, but only three looked like walkers. She urged her horse to a stop, dismounting quickly and approaching the bodies cautiously. She was assuming that the walkers, whom she distinguished from their dilapidated faces and missing chunks of flesh. The fourth body, which looked like a young woman, seemed absolutely untouched save for the blood coating her clothes. Michonne inched closer to the woman, pulling her katana out just in case she was close to turning. The others all had stab wounds to the head, which were most likely the work of this one since the bloody knife was cast to the side of her. She must have fallen, but what could have caused it?

She examined the fallen woman further, frowning when she spotted a hold in the black cotton t-shirt that she wore. Michonne pulled at the blemish in the fabric, wincing slightly as she pulled back a finger that was covered in a crimson liquid. Whoever had shot this woman must've been a pretty bad shot to miss so badly and tear such a large hole in the skin. She could tell that the body had barely been there for a half hour, for it would stink much more of death than it did now if it had been baking in the sun for longer.

Michonne pressed her fingers gently against the woman's slim neck, searching quickly for a pulse. She doubted that the woman would still be alive after losing so much blood, but there was a hope that somehow lingered there. She didn't know why, but she wanted this woman to be alive. It didn't seem right for her to die here, all alone, on the side of a road. With the world in the state it was in, no one should be forced to die alone. Michonne let a small smirk cross her face as the faint signs of a pulse traveled up her fingers. It was a bit of a shock to her that this person was still alive. Her heart was barely beating, but it was beating nonetheless. That alone meant that she could still be saved. She stood up quickly, wasting no time in scooping the woman up. However, the limp body was much heavier than Michonne had originally thought, and she knew that this would be harder than she'd anticipated. 

"How is it that everyone else has barely lost any weight while I feel like a twig?" She asked herself, chuckling as she slid her arms under the woman's. It was definitely an awkward way to carry someone, but Michonne knew that there was no way that she was going to get the girl to her horse otherwise. 

She looked back at her steed quickly, cursing as she watched the animal chew on the dying grass by the side of the road. How the hell was she supposed to get this girl onto the horse when she could barely drag her from where she laid just seconds before? Michonne finally managed to pull the girl over to the horse, grunting as she struggled to lift the girl onto the creature's back. However, she soon succeeded in tossing the girl into the saddle, pulling herself up after packing up the supplies the girl had dropped when she'd been shot. Even if she didn't wake up, anything she had on hand would be useful. 

Michonne eased her mount back into the quick trot she had been progressing at before she'd stopped, hoping that she caught sight of the prison soon so that she wouldn't end up dealing with a walker on top of a horse. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Rick stood up slowly as he heard footsteps crunching on the soft dirt of the field, smiling as he spotted Carl making his way down the steep hill. He had told his son that he didn't need help with the crops today, but he had a feeling that the boy had a different motive for joining him. The boy had been spending an awful lot of time outside since Michonne had taken off last, but he didn't spend time playing with the other children that had joined their group since the arrival of the people from Woodbury. Instead, he spent his time tending to the animals and reading in the yard, glancing up at the gates as he did so. 

They all wanted Michonne to come back, but Carl seemed to want her back the most. She brought him things that she'd found during her travels often, but it was more likely that he wanted the whole group to stay at the prison for once. Rick wouldn't mind that himself, but he knew Michonne wouldn't rest until she knew that the Governor was dead. He, honestly, couldn't care less where the Governor had gone. He had no group, no supplies, and was clearly mentally unstable. He had a feeling a man like that wasn't capable of surviving outside the walls of his little safe haven for very long. 

"I told you I didn't need any help," Rick said, dusting off his faded jeans as he peeled off his dirt covered gloves. He was nearly done here, and it wouldn't kill him to take a bit of a break. 

"I know, but I figured I'd come see how the vegetables were coming," Carl replied, looking around at the plants that inhabited the row they were currently standing in. "Anything we can eat yet?" 

"Not quite yet," Rick huffed, examining the blooming flowers on the green bean plants beside him. His hard work had paid off, and all of the plants seemed to be getting ready to sport their delicious foods soon. If only they would grow a little faster. "But soon." 

Carl nodded, looking over towards the gates yet again. Rick chuckled softly, bringing the boy's attention back to him. "What's so funny?" 

"You've barely been able to keep your eyes off that gate since she left," Rick said, following his son's gaze over to the fences they had built to protect the lower yard after the Governor had destroyed the chain link one that had once been there. As long as it kept the walkers out, it didn't matter what it was made of. What mattered was that it did its job and kept those inside safe. 

"She'll be back, Carl. She always comes back." 

"But what if she doesn't, dad?" Carl snapped, adjusting the hat Rick had given him a year or so ago when it tilted forward on his head. It was still a bit big, but he would grow into it. "I know she always comes back, but there could be one day that something goes wrong and she doesn't. I just don't want her to die alone out there." 

Rick hesitated a moment, thinking about what his son had just said. He was aware of the risks of leaving the prison and what was out there. There were walkers everywhere beyond the fence, and you never knew when one could sneak up on you and take a chunk out of your flesh. A bite guaranteed your death, and that wasn't something anyone who'd survived this long wanted. No one had come this far just to die. 

"Carl, I -" he started, pausing at the familiar sound of hoof beats approaching. He smiled as his son's face lit up like a light bulb, for they both knew who was coming.

Carl shot off towards the gate as the chestnut mare the woman had left on came into view. Its coat was a bit muddy, but nothing unrecognizable as it galloped towards the prison. Michonne was clearly atop the beast, her katana clutched in her hand in case she needed to fend off any of the walkers crowding around the prison. 

He reached the gates quickly, pulling the rope that brought them open with all of his might. It was a bit heavy for Carl to open quickly at this time, but he would get stronger. Everyone did as they got bigger, and he would get stronger along with them. 

Michonne kept her eyes on the gates, clenching her teeth in hopes that it would be open all of the way by the time she reached it. She knew the woman sitting behind her in the saddle wouldn't last much longer if she didn't get medical care soon, and she didn't want to be to blame for bringing a walker into the prison. They already had enough of them gathering outside of it, and there were enough children here that even one walker could endanger a lot of families. 

She cut down a walker that was a little too close for comfort as she closed in on the gate to the prison, letting out a sigh of relief as it was pulled as far open as it could be and she galloped through the gap. As far as she could tell no walkers had followed her in,  but that wasn't her main focus at the moment. Michonne needed to get this woman to Hershel, and fast. She hopped off of the horse quickly, untying the rope that she had wrapped around both her waist and the woman's so that she wouldn't lose her unconscious passenger if she needed to get away from a large group of walkers. She pulled the woman out of the saddle, glancing to her side as Rick's heavy footfalls came closer. 

"Who is she?" Rick asked, helping her to pull the woman from the saddle. 

"I don't know, but she's hurt and still breathing. Get her to Hershel quickly; I don't want her to die," Michonne panted, helping Rick to move the woman into his arms so that he could carry her into the prison. She was positive he would be able to get there faster than she would, for she had barely gotten the woman on her horse just minutes ago. 

Rick nodded to her quickly, taking off towards the prison at a brisk walk. He wasn't sure whether or not the woman would survive this ordeal, but at least she had a chance. Michonne watched Rick go, turning as someone who was gasping for breath came to a stop beside her. She looked down to find Carl panting beside her, his gaze lying where hers had previously been. 

"Who is she?" he asked, looking up at her with curious blue eyes. 

"I don't know, Carl," Michonne replied, watching as Rick pushed past a small crowd of other survivors to get into the prison. "I just hope she lives long enough for us to find out." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I hope you enjoyed the second chapter of our story. I'm blown away by the fact that we've already reached over forty hits. Thank you all so much for your support, and don't forget to leave comments or kudos! I always love to hear what you think of the story.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this. I've had a lot of fun planning this story recently, especially after watching the newest season. Anyway, thank you so much for reading and don't forget to leave feedback or kudos if you enjoyed the chapter!


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